


all in a day

by Cronomon



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cronomon/pseuds/Cronomon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your average Sunday morning with the Sons of Fëanor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all in a day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solanaceae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/gifts).



> Written as a birthday gift to my buddy, Solanaceae! Have a good one yo.

It’s eleven in the morning and Maedhros is sitting in the kitchen with his usual cup of coffee (instant and shitty, the way he drinks it every morning when Fingon isn’t around to brew it for him).

He’s reading the Sunday comics and chortling over a particularly excellent Garfield strip when Celegorm stumbles in. Now, it’s not uncommon in the least for Maedhros’ dear little brothers to sleep in on the weekends — they’re all hardworking students, doing their best in their studies and not neglecting homework for music practice or getting into eight fights a day or pranking their teachers by switching places or _anything_ — so what _does_ catch Maedhros’ eye is actually what _doesn’t_.

The eldest son opens his mouth but not a sound comes out.

Funnily enough, it’s Caranthir, stomping into the kitchen with all his teenage angst and promptly doing a double-take at the sight of Celegorm, who manages to put Maedhros’ shock into words.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, eyeing his brother in disgust as he stalks over to the cereal cabinet. “The fuck happened to your halo?”

Celegorm’s hair, usually radiating the purest of light with its natural luster, now hangs limp and dull along the sides of his face. _Indeed_ , Maedhros thinks, peering at the unwashed, oily mess, _our local angel has fallen_.

With a heavy sigh, Celegorm flips his long, once-luscious strands behind his shoulders and trudges over to the table, pulling out a chair across from his oldest brother. “I mean, you know, it’s like,” he sighs again, “whatever.” He slumps over and buries his face in his arms.

“Come now, Tyelko.” Stifling his urge to gag at the stench his poor brother is emanating, Maedhros puts down his cup and opens his arms welcomingly. Behind him, Caranthir snorts through a mouthful of dry cereal. Maedhros ignores him and asks, “What’s wrong? Did something happen yesterday with Aredhel?” With a kind smile, he adds cautiously, “You didn’t even want to talk when you got home last night.”

A low whine, grating and pitiful, rises from the back of Celegorm’s throat.

“Don’t be a baby,” Caranthir snaps. “Fuck, why are you being such a loser today?”

Maedhros almost wipes away a tear. _He really does care!_

“I’m not a loser.” Celegorm’s voice is muffled by his arms. “You’re a loser.”

“Say that to my fucking face, I _dare_ you-.”

Maedhros tries to pacify them. “There, there, let’s not get into a fight so early in the day, you two-.”

“Fuck off!” Caranthir shoves the cereal box back into the cabinet and slams it shut in an angsty manner. “Fucking- go make out with Fingon or something.”

“What. No. Fingon? No. Why would I ever want to do that? Please. With Fingon? Pshhhh. _Findekáno_?” Maedhros laughs loudly. “No.”

A loud crash from the piano room makes everyone jump. It also saves Maedhros from having to make any more stellar excuses. Scuffling sounds follow, and then a very panicked, “I’m okay! I’m okay!” rings out.

“Fuck!” Caranthir slams a fist against the wall. “Káno, quit fucking falling asleep on the fucking piano, you fucking nerd!”

Lifting his head, Celegorm comments mildly, “Looks like someone’s in a bad mood today.”

“Fuck you!”

As Caranthir launches into a rant of teenage angst and frustration, Maglor pads into the room, scribbling furiously on a music score. He stops in front of the coffee machine and pauses his writing to grab a nearby mug and fill it halfway. Lifting the cup to taking a hasty sip, the liquid barely touches his taste buds before he spits it back out and turns to Maedhros with a wounded look.

“Where’s Findekáno?” 

“Káno, please.”

“I was so close. _So close_ to finishing this piece-.”

“Have you even started your homework yet?”

“- and I decided to take the risk and come here — _here_ , where my _family_ is-.”

“Your finals are next week, Káno I’m begging you.”

“- and I even decided to drink some coffee, you know, the good stuff from Fingon, maybe get that final boost of energy I need to complete this-.”

“You drink coffee every day.”

“- and what happens? I take a sip and? I find out? That your boyfriend has _forsaken me_?”

Celegorm stares. “Káno, what the _actual fuck-_?”

“Fingon? My boyfriend? You mean. _Findekáno_? No. Please, I mean. Fingon? Really? No. No way.” Maedhros laughs loudly. “Nah.”  

Maglor looks at him blankly for a second and then shakes his head and shuffles out of the kitchen. “I’m going to my room.”

“Do your homework.”

“No.”

Maedhros makes to respond when three Nerf bullets soar into the air, nailing each brother squarely.

Leaping from the shadows, Amrod and Amras brandish their guns and declare, “Get memed on!”

Caranthir roars, “I’ll fucking destroy you brats! 

Rushing into the room, Curufin tosses his angsty brother a Nerf sword. “Moryo! Come! We must band together if we can ever hope to defeat them!”

The toy smacks Caranthir’s face and he fumbles to get a good hold on it, cursing under his breath the entire time 

Meanwhile, Curufin gracefully offers another plastic sword to Celegorm, gently holding it out hilt-first. “Tyelko, get off your fucking ass and fight with us.”

Celegorm stares at the sword for a moment. He hears a click as the twins reload their weapons, and he knows what he has to do. In one fluid motion he takes the sword and stands, slashing two foam bullets out of the air, his hair billowing out majestically behind him. As though sensing his newfound willpower, the dust and grime poof out of his gorgeous locks, and his brothers are all forced to squint at the sudden glow radiating around him.

“For me, Curvo,” he declares, “there would be no greater honor.”

“Hear that, shitty twins?” Caranthir snarls, twirling his sword easily in one hand as he steps forward to stand alongside his brothers. “You’re not getting any mercy from us!”

Amras sticks his tongue out. “Bring it!”

With a mighty battle cry, Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin charge at the younger boys. Amrod and Amras yell back and then promptly run away and scurry up the stairs, always a step ahead of their older brothers thundering after them.

It’s twelve in the afternoon and Maedhros is sitting in the kitchen, wondering if an Advil is worth the trouble or not. He checks the clock and decides against it. Standing up, he pours the rest of his coffee into the sink and grabs his house key and wallet from the counter before heading outside.

True as truth, Fingon is there, leaning against the hood of his car and smiling broadly at the sight of Maedhros. 

“You look like a mess,” his lovely not-boyfriend greets him.

Maedhros snorts, running a hand through flame-kissed hair _just_ the way Fingon likes it, and then replies dryly, “If you think I look bad you should’ve seen Tyelko earlier.”

To his surprise, Fingon only nods sagely. “Yeah, Ireth told me about it. Figured he wouldn’t take it too well. How’s he doing?” 

“… What? What happened?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He was too busy moping.”

Fingon sniggers. “Ha, sucks to suck.”

With a good-natured shove, Maedhros prompts, “Come on, did he get rejected by her or what?”

“Okay, wow, you _really_ don’t know.”

“So tell me already.”

Fingon grins brightly. “You see, our dear Tyelko had such a _romantic_ date set up — video games, fast food, the whole deal, really — and I’m sure he was just about summoning the strength and courage to confess, but I’m afraid my darling sister, in the middle of what I believe was an excellent round of Smash, broke it to him first.”

Maedhros arches an eyebrow and asks cautiously, “Broke _what_ to him?”

“That she’s already dating Elenwë, of course.”

Somewhere in the house of Fëanor, a Nerf bullet bounces off of Celegorm’s chest, and with one last cry he crumples to the ground in defeat.

Maedhros rubs his temples and lets out a heavy sigh. “… Of course.”

 


End file.
